Lost in Turbulence

"I know you tried your best."

Again, he laughed and turned into her, his mouth at her neck, warm and tickling as it spilled down her skin. "I believe I fulfilled my promise of getting you there."

She adjusted her position so she was laying on her side facing him, her arms winding around him. "I believe you did, too," she whispered before kissing him softly on the chin.

"Are you okay?" he ventured before he adjusted his face to languidly kiss her back. She only gave a soft moan, possibly to the affirmative. "Gem, seriously, are you alright? You don't hurt too bad?"

"Yeah, I'm sore, but I'll live." Her fingers were lightly roving over his arm and torso as she settled into him. "I've never slept with anyone before, except, you know that one time when the class went to Brighton. But even then, we didn't really..."

"I know. But I think I'm going to like it."

She smiled as she snuggled even closer, her nose rubbing his firm chest. She contemplated the feel of warm, slightly damp flesh pressed against her equally naked and sweaty body. "Yeah, I think I am too. Um, what did you do with the condom?" She felt funny asking, but despite all they'd done, couldn't get past the idea that it would be gross for that thing to come off in their bedding while they slept and get lost between them.

"Took it off before I zipped up."

"And put it...?"

"You're as bad as my mom about picking up after myself. I wadded it up in the Kleenex and tossed it by my bag."

She giggled sleepily. "Just making sure," she replied.

They held each other, listening to the rain, finger tips idle in quiet survey, heads gentle with small, satisfied turns and burrows. "This reminds of that poem from the Robert Lewis Stevenson unit we did in lit class."

"Which one?" Her voice held the warmth of sleep.

"You know my mind's crap for remembering that stuff verbatim, but it was about wishing for a companion to lay under the starlight with and how being together with the perfect person creates a perfect solitude, because both people just are. The perfection of each of your beings, I guess. But the last line was "...to live out doors with the woman a man loves is of all lives the most complete and free."

Gemma leaned her head back to peer up toward his face in the dark. "That's beautiful," and then she kissed him fully.

His arms tightened around her until they couldn't breathe. "Well, I didn't come up with it," he admitted.

"But you remembered it, made it a part of you, shared it with me," she objected with a yawn.

His arms tightened once more as she tucked her head back against his chest. "I did." He kissed the top of her head and neither spoke again as the drumming rain continued to fill the satiated silence.

Gemma's first awareness was of laying at the edge of cold. She wasn't quite there, not quite uncomfortable, but had the notion that if she rolled just one more turn she would fall over the cliff into freezing.

And then she felt something hard and decidedly not cold nestled against the crack of her bottom. Her eyes opened. Her head was pillowed on one of Finn's arm, his other curved around her and held her to his chest as if she were his life-size teddy bear made expressly for cuddling.

The walls of the tent glowed an ethereal gray and red, the dawn slowly waking up the spring mountain. She could smell the freshness waiting outside and was eager to explore before they had to hike out that afternoon.

Swirls of fingertips, at first a twitch, then a growing rhythm and stride finally drew her attention to the hand nestled just under a breast. Slowly she turned her head until she could just meet one of Finn's eyes open and staring into her. He had such clear eyes, blue like the deep ocean.

"Morning," he said.

Little tingles spread up from the pit of her stomach. His voice was roughened by sleep and so very sexy. She bit her lip. "Morning," she replied, still eyeing him, waiting for him, the outside world now forgotten.

Even though they were touching, he managed to scoot that much closer until the press of flesh was tight and inescapably intimate. He kissed a bared shoulder. "Sleep okay?"

She nodded.

He kissed the corner of her neck. "Sore?"

She shook her head. Her deep brown eyes watching him draw near.

His face held just before hers, their eyes meeting with openness. And just when she thought he might not mean to kiss her, he leaned another inch until his lips were rubbing against hers. "Regret anything?"

"No," she denied passionately, "nothing."

Her admission was his invitation and the attack of his mouth became like the desperation of the hungry. They found each other under the thick sleeping bags that had become twisted in their sleep, their eyes sneaking down between them often to see the unclothed flesh in its fullness, a thrill bubbling in their stomachs each time.

When he was settled between her thighs and had a nipple between his lips he started chuckling. She stiffened a little. "Are you—are you laughing at me?"

"What? No, of course not," he chuckled, cupping her behind the neck and raising himself to reach her mouth and kiss her placatingly. "Sorry, no, I was just thinking. I'm sort of torn, you know. I want to explore every little part of you, kiss and eating absolutely everything, but I also really want to be inside you again. Really..." and here he nuzzled into her neck, the warm scent of her filling his nose and flooding his chest, "fuck you hard."

If Gemma hadn't grown wet during their first few minutes of touching and kissing, she was absolutely drenched from his confession. She wanted him again, too. "Do you have more condoms?"

Finn gave her the smile of a self-satisfied genius. "Of course."

She nodded. "Okay, let's put it on and...but maybe not so hard as all that!" she exclaimed as she thought of what he said. "You know, just in case I am sore. A little."

He kissed the bridge of her nose then her mouth. "Of course," he replied again, softer.

Remembering how he'd showed her the night before, Gemma managed to slide it on, wanting to make comments on how strange his cock looked, how much larger than she imagined they'd get, how happy it made her for it to be inside her the night before. But those were things that any silly girlfriend might say and so she simply praised him with the encouraging touch of her hands. Once the second skin was applied, Finn lay back down on her, his warm chest meeting hers, his hips settling into a quickly-growing familiar place.

For a pace, Finn seemed content to lean on his elbows, his hands and fingers brushing through her hair, his eyes wandering over her fresh, morning face.

Now, if we consider how things that are hot are expanding and things that are cold are compressing, what do you think happens when two weather fronts, one with warm air and one with cold air, meet? Anyone? Anyone? What phenomenon comes out of that? It was one of the vocab words. Anyone?

Turbulence?

Right. We have two systems with opposite goals. But when they intersect, when they collide they cause greater motion, greater energy. And as a result, we get turbulence.

"I have something to confess: I got my letter from Stanford yesterday. I got in. If I get those scholarships, if I go, I want you to come with me. I'd be willing to make it work if you stayed here, but...I don't want to be away from you. I want you to come with me."

His statement hit a wall of her surging emotions, her body was cycling up with pleasure and it took her a moment to understand exactly what he said. "You're going?" she whispered as he began to slide into her. She winced only a little, the stretch a physical pain she could easily handle. He pressed forward, her sensitive, raw walls taking in the feel of every nuance of his sheathed cock.

He was just able to press into her pubic bone with his. Warm electricity jolting out.

"Yeah. I'm short a few thousand a semester. I think if I got just one of the scholarships then I'd do loans for the rest. And a job. Maybe I could even earn enough to make up for it."

Two systems.

Her body squeezed convulsively around him, her heart clenching in a pained and mirrored spasm. He held himself tightly against her and then slowly pulled and pulled until she thought he would come out. And then the press back in. She adjusted her legs, wrapped her thighs around him. One heel hooked the other.

Finn moved so he held her cradled in his arms and began to let the urge take over. Discomfort ebbed away until all that remained was the alien sensation of living flesh moving inside of her. Gemma clung to him, her face pressing into the safety of his neck. Whatever Finn was doing, he was doing it right, for every time he slid in to her, he rubbed along sensitive places, like a cat purring against your leg, rippling warmth from that small center out into her whole body.

Opposite goals.

Legs tightened as heat began to consume her. Gemma's whimpers became a constant needy strain as her body lit on fire and began to ache with the desperate need to implode. Finn began to place kisses along the sides of her face.

"Come with me, Gem. Please, come with me, please. Come with me," Finn pleaded over and over. Her body was twisted with need and pleasure and fear and heartbreak. Gemma thrashed her hips wildly against his, feeling the precipice closing in but never reaching it. Her frenzy sparked an equaling desperation in him and he bucked into her repeatedly, driving them both higher than he had known was possible. She clawed at his back, frightened of not finding it again, frightened of being left behind, unfulfilled.

Turbulence.

"Oh, god, Gemma, I'm going to come," he shouted just a half second before his hips jerked sporadically against her, legs strained, a deep, long growl pulled up from his chest as he squeezed her with all his strength. His breath was moist and hot against her neck, his body heavy and limp, sedated with the drugs of sex, a primal euphoria.

Gemma's body was a circuit board of buzzing electricity zinging along fractured tracks. Every atom vibrated frantically, desperate to be organized and directed. A pool of energy flowing in the same wavelength instead of a thousand discombobulated ripples. Chaos. Her body was in chaos.

"Gem?" Finn lifted his drowsy head. He felt her body twitch and twitch and realized it wasn't from orgasm. She was crying. "Oh, shit, Gemma, did I hurt you? Was I too rough?" He was trying to cradle her face in his hands but she turned away from him, curling into a ball. "Gemma, shit! Talk to me, babe. Are you okay?"

But she couldn't speak. How could she? Of all the people in the world, Finn was the one person she knew best, trusted most, loved completely, and yet she couldn't tell him he had failed her. She reached back for his hand, unable to express with words what she felt, but needing the comfort of his body all the same. She pulled him to lay against her.

Silently, Finn wrapped her in his arms and held her until she quieted.

"I know I've been saying it a lot," she whispered quietly once the sobs had subsided, "but I'm sorry."

"What happened? Did I hurt you?"

But she only shook her head, still unable to speak. She squeezed his hand. Her complacent expression looked forced. "It's okay. Let's get dressed, huh? See if we can go find more mushrooms, then head back."

Finn was silent as he watched her arm slip out of the heavy sleeping bag into the cold air of the tent and grab the shirts that had been stripped off the night before. Hidden in the privacy of the sleeping bag, she dressed, the significance of the secret act not lost on him. Finn sat up and watched her grab her toothbrush and slip out of the tent, not understanding why it had changed between them, just knowing it had.

Shaking his head, he got dressed, suddenly uncertain what the rest of the day would feel like. When he emerged, Gemma had made a little fire, her fine fingers held over the flames. He scanned the area. The morning was gray, their mountain top covered in cloud, but it didn't feel like rain would fall. That was something, at least.

He wanted to sit next to her, put his arm around her, but how could he? What if he'd hurt her, was too rough with her? He felt like a dick. He wanted to apologize, but clearly she didn't want to talk about it. And he wasn't even certain that was the cause of her distress. She didn't seem to have been in pain during it. But maybe. Fuck. He didn't know what to think.

"According to the field guide, the best chance we have of seeing the last two kinds of fungi would be somewhere on the west side. Let's leave our stuff here and we'll come back for it."

He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. Nothing. No emotion, no explanation. A blankness of history. It never happened.

And yet it did.

Finn nodded, grabbing an extra sweatshirt and his book. The mountain air felt charged, a tension that would fracture and release cataclysmic energy. Finn scowled in hurt confusion as he watched her march resolutely ahead of him. Despite all the struggle they faced yesterday, there had still been a mirth, companionship, a lightness and a rightness. Because they were together. Because they loved each other.

Didn't they?

So what happened this morning? The knot of unknowing twisted at his gut the rest of the morning long. When she'd painted all the mushrooms she could, they worked in silence to take down their set up and hiked down from the mountains. And then Gemma stopped, swiveling her head in confusion.

"What is it?" She turned to him. He knew that look. She was embarrassed.

"I think we're lost."

"You never lose your way."

Her lips drew together and she turned back around and headed off in another direction. It was another thirty minutes before she confidently stated they were back on the right path, headed in the right direction. The short stint only furthered the tension, and neither said another word for the remaining two hours.

After they'd thrown their packs into the back of his car, he couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed her and held her to him, his arms tight around her. Slowly, he felt her respond, her arms drawing up over his shoulders, holding on around his neck, their faces nuzzled in each other's necks.

"I'm sorry." It was whispered and soft, but so heavy with pain Finn thought it might crush his heart. He took a deep breath against the constriction around his chest.

"What happened? If I did something wrong, tell me, please. I'm so sorry if I was too rough, if I hurt you. I didn't mean to."

He felt her squeeze him tighter, felt her hand on his sweatshirt fist the material. She shook her head. "It wasn't that." She was quiet, holding onto him. The pause stretching so long, Finn thought she might not say more. But then she breathed, "I love you."

Even though some amount of connection was restored, the drive back was long and silent, Finn never understanding what he had done. Despite their laced fingers and their occasional touches, something was gone. An ease, a confidence, a satisfaction. She looked out her window mostly.

When he dropped her off at her house, he got out and chivalrously carried her bag to her front door despite her argument she had just spent two days hiking it up a mountain. They stood embraced, kissing for long minutes, but it felt as if they were saying goodbye, not for the night but forever, and Finn didn't understand why. As he drove away, he felt as if he was leaving a funeral, the person he was yesterday lost in an unseen storm.

I can't breathe. My throat is swollen and I can't swallow. I try not to gulp for air. I'm not weak. I know what I'm doing. But I can't breathe as I look at you, see your face, such a beautiful face, and see your confusion and pain and fear and anger. You hate me now. What must you think of me? You only see me as someone who causes you pain. Not someone you love. Not someone you need. Not someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

But that's the problem. We could try to make it work when you leave for school, when you're two whole long states away you might as well be on the far side of this spiraling galaxy an incomprehensible distance of nothingness and cold. But that's what it will be if you leave for school and I stay here. We would talk every night at first, but then there would be papers and parties and projects and midterms and finals and study groups and friends and new friends and girls and...my throat tightens even more and I'm sure I'll pass out from the lack of air. Not someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Your face softens and you beg me to not do this, to stay, but I can only shake my head. I can only tell you part truths and half lies. I can only say I don't want to be with you any more, that it wouldn't be worth the trouble to overcome the distance. And your face changes once more and my heart shreds. And I know I'm right. I know that if you can ever look at me like that, it's possible you could forget me, possibly not love me enough to be only mine, to be enough of mine to come back to me. Four years. At least. That's how long eternity is. And it's cold and dark and I can't do it alone. I can't face being with you but not with you alone. I can't face the nights you won't call. Can't wait for holidays to see you for only a few short hours.

And I can't go with you.

You run your fingers through your hair in anger. Your eyes, even as angry as they are, are shining and I know you hate me for making you cry. I know you hate me. And I see your mouth move, I know you're saying something awful. But my ears are roaring with the sound of the miles of universe between us and I can't hear you. Your jaw flexes. And you look at me with such anger. And disgust. And you turn away and walk to your car. Your stupid blue Impreza I thought was so charming because you actually saved two thousand dollars for it and loved it like a hobo loves his mongrel dog. And you drive away. Your tires squeal and I worry you'll get into an accident. And it will be my fault for not being braver. For not trusting you more. For loving you too much that I couldn't love you enough.

And now I face all the hours between now and tomorrow. Between now and graduation. Now and my first job. My first trip to Europe. My first exhibition. My first baby. Between now and every Christmas morning for the rest of my long life. And suddenly I wish it wasn't so long. I wish there weren't any more hours to face and I feel sharp pain in my knees and I realize I'm weeping on the ground, my legs unable to hold me up. The world spinning like a tilt-a-whirl.

I open my eyes and the ground has gone vertical. I push myself up and realize I've fallen over. I see feet running to me. Hands on my arms. Someone pulling me up. An arm around me. Allan, my driver. I can hear his voice, but I don't know what he is saying. He's pulling me to the car. He's placing me inside and driving me home. I lay in bed but can't sleep and I can't stop the shaking. My phone has gone dark and I look up to the ceiling and see a sky full of stars. It's such a long distance between me and you but my need for you has seemed to grow to famine and I wonder why I ever thought you weren't worth the pain to get to you. I'd cross a galaxy for you.

Surely two states is nothing.

And then I'm switched. A lightbulb. A filament and an electrical current. I'm on and I'm desperate for the only thing that will fill my starving soul.

I'm sitting in class. Finals. I have only five minutes and haven't written down one answer. I'm so scared. So scared that you'll walk away. So scared that you'll hate me enough to not forgive me. But suddenly I don't care about anything but right now. This moment. Seconds tick by. I can hear the clock and as I wipe my tears from my paper, I write a message to the teacher.